


In Sorrow I Slumber, In Joy I Awaken

by SaintTachibana



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, an attempt at tearjerk, please read only once you have finished the event, please read with the music linked on the notes, story spoilers, unbeta'ed and rushed writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:35:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15110033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintTachibana/pseuds/SaintTachibana
Summary: Set at the end of Together In Song, a hundred years later.





	In Sorrow I Slumber, In Joy I Awaken

**Author's Note:**

> Best read while
> 
>  
> 
> [Caro's Song](http://game-a5.granbluefantasy.jp/assets_en/sound/bgm/205_karossong_all.mp3)
> 
>  
> 
> plays in the background in soft volume. I think. I was writing this while listening to it, so I hope the song's message is conveyed while reading the story.
> 
> It's not well-written, but I wanted to rush this out before the claws of depression-fuelled procrastination wrenches me back into the tar pits of unproductivity. If the story feels awkward, please excuse my indiscretion.
> 
> Midway through the story, you'll find another link to Caro's Song. For immersiveness, you can switch to that version and temporarily turn the first one off.

The sound of birds chirping outside the cave had made Arte realize that his one hundred year slumber had ended.

 

His last memory of the apparent world was a sorrowful event. When the people who considered him friends were the ones he had forced to put him down like an animal. When on the last vestiges of his wakefulness, he had made them cry in regret and sadness. When those who initially shunned him finally realized their mistake and kept repeating unneeded apologies through sobs and tears.

 

_I love all of you, that is something that never ever changed. There is nothing to forgive because I see no wrong in all of you._

 

_If there was someone who should apologize, it was supposed to be me. For being a weak guardian that couldn’t protect everyone from disaster._

 

He was never able to say those words back then, to the people who would have mattered the most; his lips too weak to deliver those words before his body and mind faded into the folds of power that hid them from mortal eyes.

 

Vision growing clearer with every second, his mortal form now successfully reconstructed, he woke up to the familiar sight of his atelier. The paintings and statues were still wrecked beyond repair, at the time when his powers warped and broke away from his pictures and sculptures like they were fragile cocoons.

 

Even then, the wrecked ruins show signs of neglect. The years were not kind. The oils on the canvas have faded away, and even the fabric had disintegrated into something his powers cannot restore. The sculpture pieces were mottled with moss and lichen and mold. All the musical scores he had painstakingly collected were ruined by the forest’s humidity.  His easel, chisels, knives…everything had rotted or had fallen apart.

 

He would have to visit the town to buy new supplies. 

 

_Will they remember the tragedy linked to my name?_

 

Small doubts ate at the corner of Arte’s mind. Maybe it would be easier for everyone to start fresh?

 

As he walked through the forest that changed little with time, he changed his outfit’s color motif to black and gold, a far connection from his previous clothes that were brown and green. There was little he could do about his face nor hair color. Primal beast, he may be, but that was beyond the realm of his abilities.

 

There was a cobblestone road he had never seen before that was built at the mouth of the forest that connected to the main one, something new from when he was sleeping. The walkways hadn’t changed much, even the geography. Aside from the scar on the mountainside where the landslide fell, a constant reminder of nature’s unpredictability.

 

There was a branch that served as a good walking stick on the side of the road. He didn’t bring out the signature paint brush cum staff that was Caro’s signature accessory. He wanted to see what history taught the new generation about him. Was he a disgraced deity? A failed protector? Were the apologies he heard at the moment of his once-death now forgotten by time?

 

His musings had led him away from his plan of visiting the outskirts of town and right directly into the center of town. His idle thoughts made him miss the festive atmosphere, of the multi-colored banners hanging in the eaves and across houses. Balloons were strung everywhere, and stalls were found in every corner.

 

His quiet walk through crowds that didn’t spare a glance at him (for he looked like a travelling mage in training) were halted when a shadow bore down on him. Arte’s eyes glanced up, marveling at a lifelike statue of him, eyes closed while his fingers were frozen mid-strum on a stone harp.

 

There was a plaque at the base of the statue, words inscribed and preserved by enchantment.

 

 ** _Arte_**  
Benevolent Patron of Art and Protector of Us All  
Love begets love. May none of us forget He who Gave All And Asked For None.

 

“How unfair.” He felt his throat constrict as his eyes misted over at the sentiment within those words.

 

“How do I say thank you when all of you aren’t here anymore?”  

  
  
A large draph man and a younger draph boy was performing in the street corner, a song with words and tune familiar to his heart. The older one was strumming a large harp while the younger one sang.

 

 _Travelling an endless road ♪_  
_Stopping here and there ♫_  
 _Having new encounters, finding treasure everywhere ♫_

  
  
Arte had only felt this feeling two times. The first time was when he had heard Elta and Selfira sing the Song of Serpent Island. This was the second time. That feeling when he felt like his heart would burst because of unbidden emotions.

  
  
His tears fell. 100 years was cruel to mortals. What was sleep for him was the whole lifespan of mortals. He would never see them again. That stalwart captain of the Skyfarers that assisted everyone, the gentle Elta, the innocent Selfira, the talented Sky Philharmonic Orchestra, the genius duo Nobiyo and Narita, the mysterious Nio, the townspeople of a century past.

 

Instead, they left behind his legacy, his song. They made him the center of their history. He was no longer an outsider to them. He was in the middle of it all.

 

So distracted he was in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the hushes and the whispers that ran through the crowd. Of when certain people suddenly ran into their houses and carried out cloth-covered items. That everyone had formed a circle around him, with eyes filled with hope and anticipation.

 

His reverie was broken when a kid started to hum [Caro’s Song](http://game-a5.granbluefantasy.jp/assets_en/sound/bgm/206_karossong_inst_00_mix.mp3). He was joined by another, and another. The soft humming grew to the volume of a cheer, as if goading Arte with a familiar feeling.

 

The whole square was now singing, with him in the center, frozen with what to do. The hymn of Caro’s Song grew stronger with every minute.

 

Until…

 

 _So, never looking back ♫_  
_For there is nothing there to see ♪_  
 _Simply journeying through where your heart leads you ♫_

 

“That time has ended.” Arte knew he needed to let go.

 

The colors of his clothes reverted back to their original colors, of soil brown and light forest green. His unique paint brush appeared in his hand once more, confirming his identity to everyone.

 

But they didn’t stop their singing. Instead, those who held the cloth covered items stepped forward a distance closer to him and revealed what they held.

 

A painting of a bird. Of a cat. Of buildings. The forest. The mountain. The sky.

 

As each painting was revealed one by one, Arte’s tears continued to fall.

 

They were his. The very same ones he gave to everyone one hundred years ago. Those he thought were ruined when his powers warped into monsters and destroyed what housed them.

 

All lovingly preserved and held in frames made of the most precious wood.

 

“Arte-sama.” An erune woman who looked to be the descendant of the town’s ceramics craftswoman bowed her head towards him. “My grandma always reminded us to never forget the day you would return. That the families of those who housed your paintings would one day show to you that we repaired, protected and preserved them.”

 

A male human stepped forward carrying a rectangular box, who looked like the descendant of the boy who lost his mother to the landslide. “We weren’t there when the disaster happened, so it was hard for some of us to believe that it truly did happen. But we had irrefutable reminders that it did.”

 

He opened the box to reveal Caro’s lute, repaired and looking new. Though a noticeable hairline crack from where it broke was visible to the trained eye.

 

“My late father said that the genius musician Nobiya had inspected it and that it should still work perfectly. It was bestowed an enchantment by a skyfarer captain, that it should last for 100 years without breaking down or getting destroyed. The blemish, he said, was a reminder of our town’s history with you.”

 

“We would be pleased if Arte-sama would reclaim what is his.”

 

Arte nodded and took the lute. The enchantment reacted to him and dissipated, having done its job of safeguarding the instrument.

 

“Arte-sama.” A young draph girl curtseyed, while her mother followed behind her holding a painting.

 

“Thank you for loving us.”

 

“…” Arte could not speak, unsure on how to react.

 

“My great grandmother told everyone of us in the family, that if anyone of us were to meet Arte-sama again if he woke up, that the first word that we would speak to him was ‘thank you for loving us’.”

 

The little girl smiled brightly.

 

“Grandmother told us how you protect our island. How you wept and cried when the landslide happened. How you did your best to keep everyone’s spirits up. How you never hated anyone even after all that they did to you. How you were still concerned of everyone even as you were fading into the light.”

 

The little girl bowed again, but this didn’t raise her head.

 

“Th-thank you for loving us. When I first heard your story, I cried. I didn’t understand why everyone hated you. I didn’t…”

 

“It’s alright.” Arte knelt down and raised her head. “It is nice that everyone remembers what happened. But the past is done now. I am…”

 

“I am happy that everyone still accepts me. That is all I could ask for.” He wiped his tears away and smiled back.

 

Cheers resounded everywhere. Cries of “ARTE-SAMA!” rang through the town, heralding the festival of their protective deity’s return.

 

The town knew their history, however fantastic it sounded, was written without lie nor deception. It was all true, and the definitive proof was present before them. Arte and his overwhelming love for all of them.

 

* * *

 

 _Simply journeying through where your heart leads you ♫_  
_If I could have but one wish ♪_  
 _That’s what it would be ♫_  
 _That’s what it would be ♪_

A figure garbed in a white hooded coat floating in the sky stares at the festivities down below. The Nine Realm Harp nestled in his hands glistens in the night light while the rest of the Revenant Weapons float around him, encircling and providing him flight.

 

Spying a brewing storm cloud drifting towards the island, a single pluck of the harp’s string disintegrates the cloud from miles away.

 

Satisfied, he flies away; disappearing into the starry moonlit sky.

 

At the very least, no rain would ruin a festival dedicated for his friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to an event that made me feel alive again.


End file.
